Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Conniepitiedthewifeoftheeasily-overflowingGiovanni.ButDaniele’swifewouldbeoneofthosesweetVenetianwomenofthepeoplewhomonestillsees,modestandflower-likeinthebackofthatlabyrinthofatown.

           Ah,howsadthatmanfirstprostituteswoman,thenwomanprostitutesman.Giovanniwaspiningtoprostitutehimself,dribblinglikeadog,wantingtogivehimselftoawoman.Andformoney!

           ConnielookedatVenicefaroff,lowandrose-coloureduponthewater.Builtofmoney,blossomedofmoney,anddeadwithmoney.Themoney-deadness!Money,money,money,prostitutionanddeadness.

           YetDanielewasstillamancapableofaman’sfreeallegiance.Hedidnotwearthegondolier’sblouse:onlytheknittedbluejersey.Hewasalittlewild,uncouthandproud.SohewashirelingtotheratherdoggyGiovanniwhowashirelingagaintotwowomen.Soitis!WhenJesusrefusedthedevil’smoney,heleftthedevillikeaJewishbanker,masterofthewholesituation.

           Conniewouldcomehomefromtheblazinglightofthelagooninakindofstupor,tofindlettersfromhome.Cliffordwroteregularly.Hewroteverygoodletters:theymightallhavebeenprintedinabook.AndforthisreasonConniefoundthemnotveryinteresting.

           Shelivedinthestuporofthelightofthelagoon,thelappingsaltinessofthewater,thespace,theemptiness,thenothingness:buthealth,health,completestuporofhealth.Itwasgratifying,andshewaslulledawayinit,notcaringforanything.Besides,shewaspregnant.Sheknewnow.